Wrong Script, Right Love Chapter 58: Threats, Kisses, and Chaos

[Leif’s Pov—Chamber—The Next Day]

The sunlight stabbed my eyes like a thousand needles, and for a fleeting mont, I wondered if last night had been so bizarre dream.

Alvar proposing marriage. He threatened to tell my parents about us. screaming like a strangled goose. The Rainbow Fashion Show declaration.

...Surely, none of that actually happened.

I cracked one eye open.

Alvar was still there. Stretched out beside , one arm casually draped across his chest, looking infuriatingly handso for soone who had just threatened to rewrite the laws of the land and force to co out to my parents. His breathing was steady, calm—as if he hadn’t detonated my sanity only yesterday.

I groaned into the pillow. Gods, it wasn’t a dream.

Before I could bury myself deeper in despair, Alvar’s voice rumbled low, without opening his eyes. "You snore when you’re panicking."

My head shot up. "I DO NOT!"

One corner of his mouth twitched, amusent breaking through his usual steel composure. "You do. Loudly. Like a frightened squirrel."

"I—WHAT?! I—shut up!" My face burned hotter than the sun outside.

He finally opened his eyes, the playful glint vanishing in an instant. His hand reached out, fingers brushing my wrist—firm, grounding, terrifying.

"Leif," he said softly, "I ant what I said. About marriage. Soon, you’ll talk to the Count. And I will threaten—" he coughed, smoothly correcting, "I an, convince His Majesty."

. . .

. . .

My eyes widened. Did I just hear "threaten"?

Threaten... the Emperor.

For .

I could already picture it: Alvar storming into the throne room, blade drawn, scowling like a war god while I’m dragged in chains straight to the dungeons. , in rags, telling the other prisoners, "It wasn’t treason, I swear, it was just... romance."

My voice cracked. "Alvar—you cannot just—threaten the Emperor! That’s not ’convincing’; that’s... that’s suicide!"

He only smirked, utterly unfazed. "If it’s for you, Leif, then so be it."

. . .

. . .

My brain short-circuited. "...I don’t know if I should kiss you or strangle you."

He only smirked, tugging down until I was lying beside him, his arm wrapping firmly around my waist. "Then strangle with love, my Leif."

I sighed, burying my face deeper against his chest. "...I don’t think I can do that."

His lips curved against my hair. "Then why don’t you kiss instead?"

I blinked. "...Eh?"

And then his hand began to move—slowly, deliberately, sliding lower, slipping past the waistband of my pants...towards my butthole. My breath hitched.

"It’s been so long since I touched you," he murmured, his voice husky, dangerous. "Let love you today."

I froze for half a second. Then—

"Pfft!" A laugh burst out of before I could stop it. "Hahaha...haha..."

Alvar stilled, his brows furrowing. "...Did I crack a joke?"

I covered my mouth, shoulders shaking. "Hah—no, it’s just—’let love you today’? Gods, Alvar, that sounds like sothing out of a bad romance play. So old-fashioned! So clingy! Who even says that?"

He stared at , deadly serious.

Then he moved.

In the blink of an eye, he rolled over , pinning flat against the mattress. His hands caged on either side of my head, his blue eyes gleaming with heat and sothing far more dangerous.

"...Then let consu you today." His voice was low and raw, the words searing into my skin.

My eyes flew wide. "W-wait! I—I have—"

My protest was cut off as his fingers laced tightly around my wrists, trapping them above my head. His grip was firm, unyielding, the kind that made my pulse hamr against my throat.

"No, Leif," he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of my ear, his breath hot and dizzying. "It’s too late to escape now."

My heart thundered like it was trying to break out of my chest. His weight pressed into the mattress, his scent drowning , and his gaze burned into mine as if I were the only thing in his world.

Gods help —I feel like I’m not going to walk for a week again.

***

[Leif’s Chamber—Continuation]

Sm—smooch! Smooch! Smooch!

Alvar’s hungry tongue claid , devouring , his lips crushing against mine with a force that made my chest seize. His kiss wasn’t tender—it was rough, consuming, a storm that dragged under without rcy. My wrists were pinned above my head in his iron grip, the weight of his body pressing into the mattress, caging like prey.

"Mm—ahh..." a helpless sound slipped from my throat, muffled against his mouth as his tongue pushed deeper, stroking, tangling with mine. My body trembled beneath him, every nerve alight, as if his mouth alone could burn alive.

He tasted of fire and danger, sharp and intoxicating—sothing that made dizzy, sothing I could drown in.

Alvar growled low in his throat when he heard my broken moan, his grip on my wrists tightening, his kiss turning brutal, desperate, like he couldn’t get enough of .

When he finally tore his lips away, my lungs seized for air. A slick thread of saliva still bound us, and before I could even catch my breath, his tongue flicked out to lick my lips again—slow, deliberate, maddening.

"Al...var..." I gasped, shivering.

But it wasn’t enough for him. As if so dam had burst, his free hand moved fast, sliding down between us, tugging at my pants with no hesitation. In one swift yank, he pulled them down, tossing the fabric aside carelessly. My legs jerked in shock, my chest burning red with embarrassnt.

His palm smoothed over my bare thigh, hot and possessive, until his fingers brushed lower—dangerously close—so close towards my butthole that my breath hitched.

"Haa—ahh! W-wait... wait, Alvar—!" I whimpered, twisting under him, my face afla, my voice breaking into panicked moans.

He froze only for a heartbeat, eyes sharp, piercing—predator and promise all at once. The hunger in his gaze was terrifying and achingly beautiful, like he could devour whole and I’d beg for more.

"Wait?" His voice was low, rough, ragged, and laced with need. His hand still pressed against my thigh, heat radiating from him, searing through . "Leif... I’ve waited long enough."

My pulse thundered, heat pooling in a place I couldn’t na. "...I—I an... let ... help you too..." My gaze flicked down, landing on the undeniable proof of his desire—his thick, hard length, straining, impatient Dick.

He followed my eyes. And then, oh gods, that smirk—slow, deliberate, dangerous. Leaning closer, his lips brushing my ear, he whispered, "...Are you saying... you want to suck , my love?"

I swallowed hard, throat dry, my body trembling. "...Y-yes."

His lips twitched into a teasing grin as he pressed a soft kiss to my cheek, then another to the corner of my lips. "It’s... okay, Leif," he murmured, voice gentle, dangerous. "... You’re small. Your mouth... it’s too delicate. If I let you take like that... you might get hurt."

I gulped, my stomach twisting in desperation. He was right. His Dick—thick, hard, demanding—was overwhelming. My fingers itched to touch, my lips burned to taste him, and yet... my mouth felt too small, too unprepared.

But... my body betrayed , trembling with need. "...I... I still... want to do it," I admitted, my voice barely above a moan, raw and trembling.

His eyes darkened, lust flashing sharp and hot, smoldering like coals ready to ignite. "...Then," he said slowly, savoring every word, "...kneel on the ground."